There used to be a large garden
behind our house that the previous pastor’s wife had planted and tended. I’m
sure that at one point, it was a beautiful patch of ground with all sorts of
colorful flowers, fruits, and vegetables growing within it, and I’m sure that
it was a pleasing sight for both this couple and everyone who visited the
parsonage.
When we moved in, though, this was
no longer the case.
Weeds—some now taller than me—had
infested the garden. It looked like our backyard was trying to slowly birth a
jungle in the middle of Central Jersey, and neither Jess nor I had any idea
what to do about it.
Now, I’m sure that this is no
surprised, but I am just about as far as one can get from possessing a green
thumb. I’ve tried planting trees, vegetables, flowers—you name it, I’ve
probably tried it—and each time I’ve ended up with either kindling for a fire
or a whole mess of weeds. When it comes to the lawn and garden, I’m best left
just mowing and weed whacking. I leave everything else in my wife’s capable
hands. She is much, much better at actually being able to grow things. Our
first year here, she put in a vegetable garden in the backyard, and we had
fresh green beans, peppers, and tomatoes for dinner for a while. It was
wonderful. She also put in a number of flowers and trees in the front to liven
up the look of the house, and one of those sets of flowers—daffodils or
something—are starting to peak up from the ground right now.
I was going to let her tackle rain
forest trying to encroach upon our land, but she took one look at it and
admitted she had no idea what to do with it. So, after about four months of
living there, I did what I do best with lawn and garden care: I started cutting
stuff down. I cleared out the weeds, the overgrown tomato plants, the thorny
vines, and everything else from that patch until all that was left there was
churned up dirt and two small trees—one right in the center of the patch and
one off to the side.
It’s kind of funny that these were
the only things left standing because they were also the only things that
looked like they were no longer alive. Neither had any leaves. Neither were
especially large, and neither looked like they were going to be around much
longer. Honestly, the only reason that I left them standing is that the weed
whacker wasn’t able to cut through them. I’d have to find an axe or hatchet for
that. Later, I asked Jessica what she wanted to do with the trees, and we
decided to wait and deal with them in the spring.
When spring finally arrived, Jessica
started talking about what we were going to do with those trees. We wanted to
put a fire pit in the backyard, and the barren, post-apocalyptic jungle patch
seemed to be the ideal choice. But what were we going to do with these trees? They
still had no leaves on them, and they looked dead.
Luckily, I did not have to make
that decision. One day, I got a call from Jess saying that she solved our tree
problem. I didn’t think much of it until I got home, and then I went in the
back to see what was done. Jess had dug out one of the trees and moved it to a
new place in the yard. Apparently, she had gotten so frustrated with the tree
that she had dug around a while and then just ripped it out with her bare
hands, dug a new hole for it, and filled it in with fresh sod. We both thought
for sure that this would never work. I figured I was going to have to go out
and chop it down anyways, even after all her work.
For months and months, though,
Jess watered that tree and cared for it, and wouldn’t you know it, leaves
started to sprout from it. It still looks on the verge of turning into
firewood, but it’s fighting on, and it keeps showing signs that it’s still got
life left in it.
And I was ready to cut it down.
